Changes Beyond the Grave
by DaSalvatore
Summary: The Potters weren't the Dumbledore kool-aid drinkers it's believed and left behind information and keys to Harry's long-term future and happiness. At the age of 10 he finds their Worst-Case Scenario trunk in the Dursley attic and the Boy-Who-Lived vanishes, reappearing a year late to Hogwarts and an attitude that will rock Dumbledore's world.
1. Words from the Grave

Words from the Grave

It's said that even the strongest of weapons will break when put under enough stress. For Harry Potter, the hidden-away Boy-Who-Lived and abused ten year old child, coming close to such a breaking point was not an unknown feeling.

His frail body suffered broken bones, deep painful bruises and malnutrition on a seemingly regular basis. His spirit was regularly attacked by the apathy and emotional bullying from his "loving" family. An incident in Harry's younger years could easily have been lost within the sea of physical and emotional agony. Instead, it would seep into the very being of the small boy to change his very fate.

Harry had come home as the proud owner of high grades. For many other children it would have been a wonderful time, their parents pinning the report to a fridge and perhaps even taking the child out for a meal. The Dursleys viciously beat Harry and threw him into his cupboard beneath the stairs for daring to make their beloved Dudley look like an idiot. Young Harry was faced with knowing that the approval he so desperately craved would never come and had to make a choice. A weaker Harry might have given up and buried his work effort, knowing that he could easily not try, and coast the rest of his life. This Harry wasn't that weak.

As the pain dominated his small body and the darkness of unconsciousness pressed in on his awareness, a part of Harry's mind made the decision to separate itself from the world. In front of others, looking out of his broken and badly prescribed glasses, would be Harry the Freak. The child who would do whatever he was told to do, a meek slave for the Dursleys to order about. Behind the mask would be something completely different. This Harry would be far stronger than his relatives or future enemies could ever imagine.

This, hidden, Harry understood that his childhood was wrong, that the Dursleys were the freaks, and that he needed to learn and play things smart if he ever wanted to have the life he dreamed of. Years later, in a magical Scottish castle, Harry would come to name this deeper, truer version of himself. In that moment of decisions when he refused to break, he had forged his will into that of a true Slytherin.

There was no change for the Dursleys after that day, no sign to the poor excuse of a family about what they had unwittingly created. At school he would do his work twice over, the first being his absolute best efforts while the teachers would always see the second, more creative homework that was always a few marks worse than Dudley's terrible results. Harry was surprised to find that it was far more difficult to deliberately fail his work than do his best and was forced to find ever more creative methods of coming in last. He would then sneak back into the classroom when no one was around to get the answers in order to check his original versions and, by his tally, he was constantly near the top each year.

When Harry was old enough to find his way to the library, he used the newfound treasure trove to read everything he could get his small hands on. He pushed his mind into new areas no matter how difficult the books might have been and the librarian would often find him, dictionary open, reading through a textbook years ahead of his current age as some new topic caught his attention. She would also see him curled into a corner, finding pleasure in devouring the fiction section in order to forget about Number Four Privet Drive.

He appeared to be a quiet and timid boy who kept to himself and rarely, if ever, offered his own opinion. All the knowledge and imagination that his hours in the library developed were safely hidden behind his mask. Unfortunately, as Harry grew so did the conflict between between what the Dursleys had taught him and the mounting evidence of something _different_ about him. Something that was at the very root of everything wrong in his relationship with his relatives.

Harry had thrown out everything Petunia and Vernon spouted about his parents, the tales of them being drunks and dying in a car crash contained far too much flee for the boy to take them seriously once he thought them over. It was that realisation that had Harry then look at himself and all the weirdness that he had meticulously documented in his mind; His hair seemed perpetually stuck in his mop of messiness and even when it was sheared off, it returned to its original length overnight. When Petunia had tried to force him into wearing that horrid top, it had shrunk until it would have been a perfect fit for any of his action figures he kept hidden inside his cupboard.

Harry had done as much research as he could without attracting attention to himself and realised that his injuries healed much faster than they had a right to. And then there was the big event. The moment when Harry ran away from Dudley and his gang and suddenly found himself on the school roof without any logical answer at how he got there.

If Harry too his relatives almost religious panic over the "M word" as a real fear then there was only one conclusion to the nine year-old boy. Magic was real. Somehow he was able to do magic and Petunia and Vernon _knew_. They knew and were so scared of it that they hurt him in order to make themselves feel better. Harry wondered if this meant his parents were also able to do magic.

Harry's day of answers began like any other even though it was his tenth birthday. The morning saw him furiously busy making sure the Dursleys' breakfast was ready and only then could he sit down to eat his measly ration. Gradually he became aware of a growing warmth in his chest, a feeling that touching him on an emotional level. It filled Harry with a sense that he had longed for but never felt in Privet Drive; Love.

Harry blinked in surprise and did his best to hide the happy tears threatening to break free from the intensity of what he was feeling. Just as he feared his mask would break, the feeling ebbed away into a steady soft thrumming. An image flickered in his mind of a long black trunk and he somehow knew it was hidden in a dark corner of the attic and, without thinking about what he was doing, he opened his mouth.

"I wonder if that scratching sound was coming from the attic."

The adult Dursleys shared a quick, panicked look. Petunia hated the idea of rats getting into the house and leaving their disgusting pellets around while Vernon immediately balked at having to call out a professional.

"Boy! You'll get up there right now and clean it out." Vernon demanded. His face was already reddening in outrage at having anything disgusting in his home. "I don't care if it takes you the entire summer, I want it cleared out and animal free. You understand, freak?"

"Yes, uncle." Harry meekly answered, confusion running wild behind his mask as to why he had said what he had. Yet there was also a sense of anticipation of being able to find the trunk he had seen in the vision and wondering what it all meant.

Harry obediently climbed the folding ladder and pulled it up behind him so he could be left in peace. He carefully looked around, squinting in the low light that came through the single window at the front of the attic, and found it exactly as he had expected.

The attic was a large open area full to the bring with junk, packed boxes and thick layers of dust coated it all. The warmth in his chest pulsed, pulling him towards one specific corner and he followed without question. Harry's jaw dropped when he found the trunk from his vision looking exactly the way it had in his mind. It was also surrounded by a clear ring of space as though pushing all the junk away from it.

"Wow."

The trunk was black with silver trim, about four foot long, and Harry came to see that it had his initials in fancy script on the lid. In awe, Harry slowly, reverently, reached out to run his fingers over the letters. After years of being given nothing but leftovers and hand-me-downs, he actually had something of his own. The feeling of ownership was a heady one for the young boy. He immediately decided that even if the trunk was empty, he would never get rid of it and always remember how it made him feel.

Harry knelt down to peer at the lock and frowned when he saw, not a hole for a key, but some strange design. He ran his thumb over the mark and instantly felt a sting that had him hissing sharply in pain. When Harry pulled his hand back he saw the familiar dark stain of blood on the lock. To his surprise, Harry watched it fade as though the lock was drinking in the blood.

He gaped in shock and almost missed the soft click of the trunk unlocking. Harry took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself and carefully lifted the lid. Inside he found a letter sitting on top of a red sheet that hid whatever treasures where beneath. The envelope might have looked innocent if it wasn't for the single word written on it. The word that had Harry swallowing hard with nerves. His name.

His hands were shaking as he picked the letter up, noticing that it was written on a weirdly thick type of paper he wasn't used to.

 _Dearest Harry,_

 _I love you my beautiful baby boy. Your father and I love you and always remember that we never wanted to leave you..._

Harry dropped the letter, his breath coming in rough gasps as his mind caught up with what he was reading. It was a letter from his parents...his mother...and they _did_ love him. It was the first time Harry could remember being told the words and the tears he had held trapped, threatened to pour free. He fought viciously with his wavering control as he carefully picked the letter back up.

 _...If you are reading this then our worst fears have come true and you are living with my sister, Petunia, and her arrogant oaf of a husband. Knowing Petunia as I do, this letter may be the first thing you'll know about us. It breaks my heart to think this might be the fate of my little baby_

 _Take your time with everything you're about to learn and remember, Harry. You carry us with you wherever you go._

 _Magic is real. It's real and there is an entire world out there fully of magical people and magical creatures. Your father and I can do magic and so can you. There is something called accidental magic when children's emotions make their magic do things and you've often made your bottle fly out of my hand when you've been impatient for your drink. I can't imagine what you've made happy as you've grown up but I'm sure Petunia hasn't made it easy for you when you've had any mishaps._

"That's putting it nicely." Harry grumbled.

 _The trunk you found this letter in is one I've designed and made myself. It's charmed to stay hidden to anyone but you with a powerful compulsion so that if they move house, someone will still pack the trunk away and put it in the new home's attic. Our plan was to make sure it was always available for you to find before you left for Hogwarts (the magical school where your father and I met)._

 _Petunia hates magic. We were close growing up and she saw my magic and me going to Hogwarts as the reason our sisterhood fell apart. She ended up married a man who mirrors her hatred for anything not "normal"._

 _No matter how badly they've treated you Harry, no matter what they've said to you, remember that we loved you, that magic is real and it is a **good thing**._

 _You may be wondering how I know that your life hasn't been easy. Do you remember feeling light-headed and how the trunk took your blood? I made it so that it's blood-bonded to you and it scanned your blood. Your father and I have written many letters to you with some of them only appearing in specific situations. You reading this letter means you've been left to the mercy of my sister and know nothing of the magical world._

 _I can't tell you how difficult it is for me to think of what your life must be like. My baby boy, who is right now playing with James and his uncle Pa-foo, has been hurt by my own flesh and blood and by those who should have protected you. But I'm your mother and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't plan for the worst while hoping for the best._

 _You see, Harry, we went into hiding against a very evil wizard called Voldemort. He's a crazed terrorist who wants to take over the magical government and has a group of fanatical supporters willing to do anything for him. The three of us are especially in danger._

 _There was a prophesy made that a man called Albus Dumbledore believes refers to you and it's believed that Voldemort knows about it. I don't believe in fate and destiny, Harry, but it doesn't matter what I believe. It only matters what those in power believe. So we went into hiding._

 _We're hidden under layers of protections but the most important thing for you to know about is the Fidelius Charm. It's a spell that hides a secret inside someone's soul so that only the Secret-Keeper is capable of telling anyone else. Our Secret-Keeper was your father's best friend, Sirius Black, but it was feared that he was too obvious a choice. We feared for Sirius' safety and decided to swap Secret-Keepers with another friend, Peter Pettigrew. That we are not with you and you are reading this letter means that he betrayed us._

 _I do not trust Dumbledore, Harry. He was there when the prophecy was made, he suggested the swap of Secret-Keepers and he even helped with the spell change-over. You should never have been taken to Petunia and this means something bad has happened to Sirius (we named him your godfather) and that Dumbledore placed you there instead of somewhere magical._

 _My darling son, there are so many things I wish to say to you. There are other letters in the trunk from both of us as well as our journals and important things we felt you should have. But I know none of it fills the hole left by parents._

 _Our plan was for you to wait until you received your Hogwarts acceptance letter and then disappear into the magical world, leaving my sister for good. But I don't know how bad life is for you. If she has hurt you, if your life is as bad as my nightmares threaten, then I want you out of there as quickly as possible._

 _There is another letter detailing what our plans are for you. In it includes instructions on getting away from Petunia even if you are being magically watched. Remember, my beautiful Harry, nothing is as important as your health and safety._

 _You will always be my little boy._

 _Love, Mum_

 _Lily Potter née Evans._

Harry didn't know how long he sat there with the letter forgotten in his hand. For the first time in years he cried; he cried for the love he had lost, he cried for the love he had been denied by his aunt and uncle and he cried for the loss of his innocence. As the tears fell and then slowed, he swore to himself that he would follow his parents' plan.

Magic was real, his family had been betrayed. The plan would be followed and Harry Potter would have his vengeance.


	2. A Return of the Past

A Return of the Past

 _1st September, 1992 – Hogwarts Express_

Luna Lovegood, Loony to those who weren't her friends, stood in the walkway of the Hogwarts Express and stared at one specific compartment. The compartment had an incredibly strong spell weaved around it to keep it hidden from view unless a person was the truest of friends to whoever was inside.

Luna could See magic. She was able to See the way it lived and breathed in the world and how it was manipulated by others. She knew the spell permeating the compartment wasn't a _Confundus_ charm, she knew what those looked like. So what exactly was the magic that was hiding the compartment? And why did it see her as a friend?

Luna pulled together the small amount of courage she believed she possessed and walked, blonde head held tall, to the door in question. Her firm knocking was spoilt only by the shaking of her hand and thankfully she didn't have to wait long for the door was opened by a very unique boy.

The boy's reddish-black hair was a little longer than his shoulders and tied back with a leather thong. His robe, more a cloak really, glistened with every movement in a way that captured her Sight and made it difficult for her to look away. Luna knew that the robe was special in a way none of the school robes were supposed to be and wondered what it could do.

Three scars bisecting the left side of his face, starting from a smaller jagged scar at his forehead, down over the eye, to end at his jaw. The very eye the scars passed through was a strange amber that glowed softly in her Sight and Luna was sure it allowed the boy to also See beyond the usual. The right eye looked normal, as normal as an eye could look when it was the most brilliant green she had ever seen.

He took a measuring of her with the look a wild animal takes in assessing another to determine food or foe. Luna didn't have time to worry before he broke into a roguish grin that caused her young insides to do flip-flops.

"Come on in."

.

oOoOo

.

Albus Dumbledore was in a bind. Two years, a month and a day ago the Boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, had vanished from where the famous Chief Warlock had put him. Dumbledore only knew about this because two years to the very day was when he had found out that the Dursleys, the owners of the place in question, had been brutally massacred.

The boy, Dudley if his memory served, had got off easiest. He had only been gutted with a knife, hogtied and left on the kitchen table with an apple in his mouth. Lucky brat. Petunia Dursley had been slashed to ribbons and then put to death with one of those noisy muggle weapons and, according to the medical reports, she had most likely welcomed the end by the time her head had been blasted off her body. It was the man who had faced the worst of the torture though. The murderer had taken their time, possibly hours, and there was very little of what had once been Vernon Dursley left by the time his still living corpse had been pulled apart.

It had been those gristly deaths that had told Dumbledore that something was amiss in his plans. Number Four Privet Drive had been saturated in strange magic that had nothing to do with his wards or monitoring charms. The strange magic had alerted the standard Ministry alert system and had the DMLE investigate. According to Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, an old acquaintance of Dumbledore's, some of the Aurors who had first seen the inside of the house still refused to go out in the field.

Thankfully no one who knew about the deaths knew that it was these Muggles who had been given possession of Harry Potter. The only other person who knew what he had done, Minerva McGonagall, had no reason to hear about the deaths of some worthless Muggles. Especially with how busy he kept his deputy headmistress.

Dumbledore had attempted to use his impressive collection of instruments to track down the boy and, to his unbelieving shock, they all failed. Such a thing should have been impossible considering he had blood-bonded most of them to the brat before leaving him at the Dursleys. He only knew the boy was still alive because the blood ties between instrument and target had yet to stop. So the esteemed Headmaster of Wizarding Britain's best school decided to wait and find answers when Harry showed for his first year.

A first year the boy missed.

The plan with the Philosopher's Stone had been perfect if Dumbledore said so himself. It was all ready for the star of the show and then...nothing... The Wizarding World – Britain – was in uproar at the failure to produce the Boy-who-lived and Dumbledore's plans collapsed around his ears.

In order to keep Tom from gaining access to the Stone, Dumbledore had been forced to face the possessed Quirrell with the aid of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick - he made sure to leave Severus out of the battle once he was sure he knew where the Tom-spirit was hiding – and now they knew of Tom's survival far sooner than he would have wanted.

The battle and victory did not endear him to his colleagues. Filius demanded to know why the trap had to be in Hogwarts near the precious students while Minerva refused to let go of her anger about the missing Harry. Didn't she realise he would have materialised the boy he he had been able?

At least this year would be different. It had only been the day before that the letter had arrived to signal the boy's intent to enrol. It had politely accepted the idea of being a year behind and thanked them for keeping his spot open. Nothing more! The absolute bloody cheek of the brat! Minerva had been over the moon yet Dumbledore couldn't help but spot the glaring omission of details and explanations in the letter. Details he would soon demand once the dust had settled on a perfectly planned Sorting.

So yes, Albus Dumbledore was in a bind. If the letter had been a joke then it meant he was still without Harry Potter while Tom was out there. If the boy did show up, Dumbledore had no idea what type of child he had turned into.

As the doors opened and the new first years entered the hall, his sharp blue eyes scanned for the single most important boy in history. Well, who wasn't named Albus Dumbledore of course.

.

oOoOo

.

The stiff upper lipped Scotswoman had stood before the group of new students and given them a lecture about a House being a family. Considering what her boss had done to his family, Harry Potter felt that the speech lacked important things like honesty and integrity. He growled at the woman once her back was turned and then mentally chastised himself. Uncle John would not be happy at his thoughts. Though Aunt Suzie would.

Although, considering Aunt Suzie was a borderline psychopath, he shouldn't really hold her up as his idol. At least that was Uncle John's argument even though he refused to be held up as one either. Some days Harry couldn't win with those two.

Harry looked around the Great Hall and smiled. It wasn't really a typical smile as smiles on a twelve year-old boy went but it was a genuine one nonetheless. His magical eye Saw through the illusion of the ceiling but he could still enjoy the non-magic magical effect the illusion created.

The entire school seemed to be watching the newbies and Harry ignored them with ease of long practice. He'd enjoyed the ride on the train and had been surprised when the knock came. What followed had made the homesickness seep away and Harry felt he had actually found a true friend in the blonde walking beside him. She reminded him of a cross between Cathy and the Travelling Doctor.

Harry zoned out the speeches, instead using the time to assess and mentally mark the teachers. The tall, scruffy haired man had an aura that appeared to nullify much of the magic floating around him that would indicated some type of anti-magical creature. The man didn't have the full height needed to be a giant but was still rather large. _Half?_ Harry wondered. _Quarter at the least._ He decided.

The small round woman appeared to be soaked in Earthen magic and knew she would be a good, no nonsense type that he wouldn't mind having in his corner. He'd already tested the first teacher and caught a trace of an animal in her aura. He assumed some type of shapeshifter though the colours were different to any of the ones Uncle John had introduced him to.

There was a dark haired man with darker eyes and an aura Harry understood perfectly. It was being poisoned by something on the man's left arm but the teacher was certainly dark enough on his own right to not need the extra push. Harry's fingers twitched to reach for his knives and attack the man before they became enemies but he forced himself to breathe and relax. There was far too much space between then for an easy kill and he didn't want to upset the young ones so early in his time as a student.

The movement caught Luna's starry-eyed attention and she looked down to where Harry's knives were hidden and over to the teacher in question. The light giggle told Harry she would have been okay with his initial instinct.

A smaller man was not far from Harry's real target, the white hair and shining eyes portraying a happy-go-lucky personality. This man's magic was different from all the others and it had a familiar feel that made Harry's smile turn into a truly happy one. A goblin, even a diluted one, would be a wonderful ally, especially once he brought up the name of his guardians. Though he thought it best not talk about Cathy after the time she outdrank one of their clan chiefs.

Harry deliberately ignored the old man and his throne. There would be time enough for revenge and retribution later and his emotions, raw from being away from the only people he considered family, were too out of control for him to risk anything now. He felt his cloak shift in reaction to his tenseness and Harry mentally whispered to it until it calmed.

 _That_ was one secret he needed to be kept hidden as long as possible.

He frowned when he watched the new students being called up one by one and a raggedy hat dropped on their heads. By the time it was Luna's turn, Harry had guessed that the Hat was doing some type of mind reading to assess their personalities. This was something he did _not_ like. His personality was whatever he wanted it to be for a specific situation, it was the first thing both his – better upgraded – Aunt and Uncle had taught him to do.

"Harry Potter!" The first woman – _McGonagall, wasn't it? -_ called and Harry wondered if he imagined the tread of joy in her voice.

The students hushed and all eyes turned to him. Harry was well aware of his fame to the Wizarding idiots and had expected this. Well, Uncle John had expected it, and made sure Harry accepted the possibility.

Hey...when the man who was the son of a biblical myth tells you some people might have a problem about who you are and your past, you listened.

 _Head up. Back straight_. Harry told himself as he strode towards the three-legged stool as though it was his birthright. _Don't let them see weakness, Harry. Make yourself the Alpha, show them strength, and they will back away if they're smart._ Aunt Suzie's advice kept him strong as the Hat was lowered to do its job.

The Hall waited, watched. Minutes went by and then the Hat's mouth appeared to speak.

"GRYF-ERIN-PUF-CLAW!"

McGonagall looked sharply at Harry and the Hat in shock while the students stared in confused surprise. He knew that the Old Man would be going crazy trying to work out what had happened and smirked when the Hat actually had to cough before trying again.

"SLY-EVEN-DOR-PUFF!"

"Sebastian?" Dumbledore called from his throne, anger tainting the polite question.

"One moment, Headmaster." The Hat sighed.

" _I don't know how you're doing this._ " It mentally scolded Harry. " _And I can't believe I'm going to say this...but where do you wish to go, young Potter?_ "

The answer came in images along with an apology. Sebastian the Hat mentally shrugged, understanding the reason behind Harry's dislike of the Sorting even if it didn't know how the boy had gotten around the very magic of Hogwarts herself.

"RAVENCLAW!"

There was continual silence as Harry rose and carefully placed the Hat on the stool. Eventually the students roused themselves to politely clap his Sorting as he made his way to the Ravenclaw table.

The Ravens were so stunned that they had got the famous Harry Potter that their applause rivalled the quiet Slytherins. The Gryffindors couldn't understand how he had slipped away from them and barely brought themselves to celebrate someone else getting the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry ignored them all and instead focused on the exuberantly happy Luna bouncing and clapping his every step to the chair beside her.

He sat beside his new friend as the Sorting failed to continue. Apparently McGonagall had also not considered his placement beyond her Gryffindor House. An older girl from further down the table leaned forward, her long curly hair brushing the wooden surface, and called out to Harry.

"Why haven't your robes changed?" She hissed, trying not to draw attention in the silent Hall.

"They're supposed to?" Harry frowned at the question and looked around to his House-mates to see all their robes having the same trim and badge on the breast. He looked down at his own and shrugged, the action causing a ripple in the robe's material that had everyone who looked blinking. Between one second and the next it matched those of everyone around him. He looked back to the girl and asked. "Is that better?"

"Err...yeah, yeah, it is." She admitted with confusion and leaned back.

Harry nodded, satisfied, and scanned the Great Hall as the Sorting finally continued. The Gryffindor table caught Harry's attention as a redhead was alternating between giving Harry glares of anger and confusion. A little way down the table was a slightly chubby boy with scruffy blond hair who seemed as though he was talking himself up into some type of action. There was something familiar about the second boy, some part of his features that tickled at Harry's memory and he wondered if the boy was a child of someone out of his parents' photographs.

The table behind Harry looked filled top to bottom with students who portrayed themselves as better than the rest. Harry was familiar with that type of attitude but was more than happy to knock the Slytherins down a peg or two if they overstepped themselves.

The Sorting was coming to a close with a girl of striking red hair. Harry glanced back to the Gryffindors to check with the glaring one and the twins he had seen further up. _Same colour, big family_. He mused.

The girl had caught Harry's attention by the small streaks of darkness that seemed to be branching through her aura. There were too many possible causes behind an infected aura but she was certainly one for him to keep an eye on.

"And now that our new students have found their Houses for the next few years." Headmaster Dumbledore smiled to the many eager faces. Harry focused on meditative breaths to keep from snarling. "I wish to say only one more thing. Tuckus Inus!"

The food appeared and the hounds were released. Hundreds of hungry students went for their most desired dishes with gusto. Harry took his time.

"I don't see any pancakes, Luna." He chuckled to the lovely girl next to him. "Whatever will you do?"

"Daddy told me where the kitchens are." She beamed back before continuing her ruthless attack on a poor potato that wished it could surrender already. "He made me promise to only go there if I don't get pancakes or chocolate cake for three days in a row."

"You mean you might have to go three days without either?" Harry gasped in horror. Neither cared that they were attracting the attention of the usually fastidious Ravenclaws. "Well we can't have that. Your daddy didn't say that _I_ couldn't go there every day, did he?"

Luna blinked at the question and took on a look of intense focus as she ran back through the conversation in question. Her sudden smile lit up the room.

"Nope!"

"Well that settles it then." Harry nodded sternly as though they'd solved all the problems of the world. "I'll check in at the kitchens on the days you can't."

The Ravenclaws were then faced with a squealing Luna who would continue to bounce happily in her seat throughout the remaining feast. Many were stunned that the girl was able to eat without sending the food flying nor make herself sick with the constant movement.

"Excuse me?" A bushy-haired girl spoke up from nearby.

Harry's open smile at the Lunabug's antics vanished into a calm mask as he faced the girl. To her credit she only slightly cringed at his mismatched eyes.

"Yes?"

"Hermione Granger." The girl stated as an introduction. "What happened with your Sorting? The Hat's never acted like that before."

"Can you make it do it again?" Luna pleaded with pale puppy-eyes.

"Sorry, hon, only if I'm wearing it." He told Luna without taking his eyes away from Hermione, the answer turning the pleading look into a pout. Harry didn't bother fighting the small smile at her antics as he answered the bushy-haired girl. "Do you know how the Hat works?"

"Of course!" The girl cried with indignation, taking the question as a personal affront. The other students did their best to pretend they weren't listening but considering they were Ravenclaws, it was a given.

"It scans your personality and memories." An Indian girl sitting next to Hermione answered. Harry liked this one, she stared him straight in the eyes without flinching. "It's not allowed to reveal anything it learns because it has to go as deep into your very being as needed to pick the correct House."

"Correct." Harry nodded as he reached into his pocket to withdraw a strange looking coin. It glinted in the candlelight and no one apart from Luna could look at it for any serious amount of time without getting a headache. "This here is a Sumerian Protector. It doesn't stop people reading my thoughts but makes it incapable of them acting on whatever they find."

Luna broke into cute giggles while the rest looked on in confusion. Hermione frowned aggressively and made to take the coin but was disappointed and taken aback when Harry spun it between his fingers and it vanished.

He did so love John's magic tricks.

"A person, or the Hat in this case, reads my mind." He explained with a grin at her annoyance in losing out on the coin. When she sat back in her chair, Harry flicked his hand again to bring the coin back. Low giggles surrounded them at his teasing of the well known Hermione. "They try to act or speak about what they found and they can't. Actions make no sense, words become gibberish, writing is nonsensical. You get the idea."

"Why would you have one of those?" Hermione demanded with suspicion.

"Protection, obviously."

"That type of protection isn't uncommon back home." A Chinese girl spoke up. "It's considered rude to hide your thoughts from friends but people still want their secrecy so they use something similar."

Hermione's head spun to lock onto the other girl and she instantly demanded details. The Indian girl rolled her eyes and introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Padma Patil. You'll get used to Hermione. She takes being a Ravenclaw serious and always wants to know more."

"I think she's a little more open about it that the rest of us." He chuckled as they shook hands. Padma shrugged as though unable or unwilling to voice an opinion.

"Let me help you out." She started to point out the other students. "The one at the end who asked you about your robes is Penelope, that's Su Li, this is Lisa Turpin and this is Terry Boot. I'm sure you'll meet everyone else tonight."

"Nice to meet you all." He nodded to each and went back to his meal. Thankfully the Ravenclaws, for the most part, accepted personal space and allowed him his quiet time.

The end of the feast did see Lunabug get her chocolate gateau and she skipped alongside Harry as the new Ravenclaws were led to their dorm by the friendly Penelope. Harry had to wonder if it had been a good idea to give his blonde friend his portion of the dessert.

"You have to be careful." Penelope warned the eager firsties. "Out of all the Houses, the path to our common room changes the most often. Because of this, our Head of House, Professor Flitwick, has an alert system set up the closer you get to the entrance. As long as you're within this area when curfew starts, you won't be in trouble if you get to the common room late."

The group climbed the final spiral staircase that took them to a door with a raven knocker. It opened its bronze eyes and stared knowingly at the students.

"You cannot feed me yet I grow. You cannot kill me yet I can die. I am everywhere yet am nothing. I have protected heroes and mothered villains. What am I?"

"And this is how you get into our common room." Penelope stated as the students did their best to overcome the riddle.

Luna turned to Harry with knowing eyes and he gave the girl a put-upon sigh. She knew he knew the answer.

"The dark. It can grow and die in relation to the light, is made of nothing yet is everywhere and both types of people have used the dark for their purposes."

The raven glared at Harry for a moment and the scoffed before opening the door. "It would have to be you who answered."

Penelope frowned at the comment but, to Harry's delight, she merely lead them into the blue common room. Harry ignored the curious glances at the raven's words to take in what would be his new home-away-from-home.

The room was comfortably large without being overpoweringly so. Desks were dotted around the room ready for use and in the middle stood the smiling form of Professor Flitwick. Harry suspected that the teacher had his own, much quicker, access to the tower in order to get ahead of them.

"Welcome, welcome, my new Ravenclaws!" He excitedly clapped. "Up those stairs there are your dorm rooms and each of you will have his or her own for your entire stay at Hogwarts. The last seventh years were on the fourth floor so that is where you will find your rooms. I want you to be comfortable enough to personalise it as much as you want."

That sent a ripple of excitement through the students. A personalised room would make the long stay at Hogwarts far easier to handle than a cookie-cutter environment.

"You can use any type of charms you wish." Flitwick continued with an excited gleam. "Though I will inspect them all and I won't tolerate anything that could seriously harm one of your fellow Claws. Over to my right is our own library that you can use in addition to the Hogwarts main one downstairs. Access is free to all but your privilege may be revoked at any time if I feel you've deserved the punishment."

Harry liked the threat. It would be agony for the information seekers of Ravenclaw House to be denied knowledge and might keep many toeing the line.

"Before I let you all go, I would like you to introduce yourselves one at a time and tell us something about who you are."

There was the usual grumbling from pre-teens at having to share but they followed the order with minimal fuss. Luna's declaration at being on a quest to find the Crumble-Horned Snorkack brought a few snickers that had Harry's hackles rise. When it came to his turn everyone waited with baited breath.

"My name is Harry Potter and I'm happy to be back in the Wizarding World after my time away. I'm looking to learning all I can here."

The lack of anything more personal was clearly a disappointment to many. A number of the older years had stayed rather than disappear to their own dorms simply to hear Harry speak and were grumbling quietly to themselves. Flitwick only nodded and continued onto the next student. He had suspected it wouldn't be that easy for the noisy to find their gossip.

After the last first year shared and the group was dismissed, the part-goblin Head of House called Harry to follow him into the library and through a door that led to an office.

"Only I can open the door into this room." Flitwick explained as he took a seat in a small chair that then rose to put him at Harry's eye level. "But do feel free to knock any time if you need to talk."

"Thank you, sir." Harry answered automatically as he glanced around the office. A painting on the wall caught his attention and rather than take the open chair, he moved to inspect it. "This looks like a goblin village."

"It is..." The stunned Professor answered. "It's a rendition of the Flitwicks' home before the goblins moved beneath Gringotts. How is it you know what a goblin village looks like, Mister Potter?"

"There are still some out there, Professor." Harry replied with a shrug as he dropped bonelessly into the waiting chair. "Just not in this country."

"Is that where you've been? Out of the country?"

Harry broke into a wide grin at the question. He'd debated over whether to let his past remain hidden and knew anything he shared would end up getting back to his enemy. Secrecy would be the best plan yet Harry was proud of the life he had led the last two years with his new family. He also felt it would do them a disservice in hiding away their influence over his life.

"I've been as out of the country as one could be without leaving these shores." He cryptically answered. Flitwick frowned though there was a certain glint in the teacher's eye at the riddle. Harry allowed a few minutes for his Head of House to guess the answer and chuckled when he heard the sigh of defeat. "I've been living in the Nightside, Professor."

The half-goblin paled at the name. The goblins might have a branch of Gringotts inside the infamous part of London but that didn't mean many were eager to be assigned there.

"Was there a reason for this meeting, sir?" Harry asked with amusement after a few more minutes of silence.

"Quite right, quite right." Flitwick shook himself down to clear his mind free of the many Nightside stories he had heard. "I've been informed by the Headmaster that he would like you to be put into your correct year."

"And how does our great overseer plan for me to overcome my lack of magical education?" The sarcasm and disrespect oozed from Harry and Flitwick made a mental note to not come across as a Dumbledore man to his unique Claw.

"Extra lessons with your teachers." He told Harry, parroting the answer he had received when giving a similar question to Dumbledore. "I could fight for your right to be kept in the first year if you wish me to, Mister Potter. In the end, it is down to you."

"Do you think you'll be listened to?" Harry's eyebrows raised at the idea and Flitwick had the decency to nod his acceptance of the point. Harry did appreciate the attempt and wondered if he had already found an ally in the man. "I'll do so only for the subjects the teachers who are willing to accept me."

"That is a fair answer, Mister Potter. I'll let the Headmaster know."

Harry gave a wry smile at the idea of Dumbledore's reaction and stood to leave. He could tell the Professor had questions and was in a mood to answer at least one.

"Go ahead, sir. Say what's on your mind." He urged with a smirk.

"Whatever were you doing in a place like the Nightside?"

Harry's smirk turned into a full blown feral grin that would have looked at home on the face of a goblin warrior. The answer would have suited one of them as well.

"Hunting, sir. Plenty of things to hunt in the Nightside."

.

oOoOo


	3. A Door that Wasn't a Door

**A big thank you to all those who have fav'd/followed this story, especially with my longer than usual posting schedule. I was falling ill as I wrote the first two chapters and had to deal with that and technical issues. Now I'm feeling better and am able to use the backup laptop for my writing. As such I've gone through chapters 1 and 2 to tidy up the writing, remove the obvious errors (a really bad date one that I totally missed) and rewrote some sections. If you spot any differences between this chapter and chapter two, that's the reason.**

 **For those who know the Nightside series; Harry meets John and Suzie at the end of Nightingale's Lament (shown in this chapter) and the end of the main Lilith arc ends before he joins Hogwarts.**

 **As a result of synching the two stories, I've changed when the original modern mobile phones were released. Rather than around '95, they will be released in early '90. These are the old "bricks" that could barely handle texts so now super smart phones for Harry in this story.**

 **Chi Vayne - It won't be their deaths but Snape will definitely face a memory if he tries entering Harry's mind.**

 **With that all said, enjoy some backstory on what happened to Harry and more Luna!**

* * *

A Door that Wasn't a Door

 _31st July, 1990_

The Nightside. A hidden place within the centre of London where concepts like Good and Evil can be bartered or sold, or simply sit together in an Uptown club as Apathy serves drinks and Innocence dances for rent money. Where souls are freely given away for the taste of the forbidden fruit and nice, normal sanity is only a sometime thing. It is a place that's much bigger than the square mile it appears to be on official maps. As though space itself has warped and expanded around it to fit all the darkness, evil and generally weird stuff that makes its home there. It is a place of deepest magic and brightest desires and almost no one finds their way into the Nightside by accident. Those that do rarely find their way out again. It's that kind of place.

It's always night there with a moon dozens of times larger than anything seen in the rational and boring world. It's always three o'clock in the morning, the hour of the wolf. The time when a man's defences are at their weakest, when he wonders what his life has become and when he is at his most ready to make a deal with the Devil.

People are always coming and going in the Nightside. They walk alongside those who only look like people and some things that couldn't be described as human if both sides were in a drunken stupor and had their eyes ripped out. You can find anything in the Nightside, if it doesn't find you first. And one of the things that has always been there is Strangefellows.

The oldest bar and nightclub in the world can only be approached by an alley that isn't always there and through a door that doesn't always open. The owner can be moody like that.

Alex Morrisey was born pissed off at the world and his mood only got worse as he grew up. He was a thin, pale man with hair that stuck out at all angles. It was partially hidden beneath a tilted beret that sat at the back of his head to hide the growing bald patch. He always wore black, mainly because he couldn't find a darker colour, and perpetually wore sunglasses no matter the lighting. That night Alex's dark eyes stared out from behind the sunglasses at the man he considered his closest friend. Most of the time.

John Taylor, mostly handsome in a white trench coat, had a reputation big enough to shake the world and luck bad enough to damn it. A private detective with a powerful gift of finding things, whether they wanted to be found or not, who was coming off a recent case that had left another emotional mark. Alex knew the signs. A barely there gruff of a hello and a bottle of Angel's Tears to drown his sorrows. John only had three moods when he came to Strangefellows; neutral, Wormwood Brandy so he could mourn the death of a friend, or enemy, and Angel's Tears when he got his heart broken.

Alex knew enough of the details of the case to understand how it all played out. A dead father concerned over his beautiful daughter, Taylor riding in as a battered and bruised White Knight to save the day only for the daughter to focus on her singing career once her life had been saved. _Poor schmuck._ Alex thought.

It was why he had called in the reinforcements. A brooding Taylor was bad for business. Although, from the way customers were making a quick exit, Alex sadly guessed that the reinforcements had arrived and business would be slow for a while.

It was still early evening Nightside time so there weren't too many bodies running up the steel steps towards the exit. That small fact didn't take away from the impressive sight of a straw-blonde Valkyrie, dressed in tight leathers, stepped casually down into the bar while everyone flowed around her in the opposite direction. A depressed John Taylor was bad enough, but throw in Suzie Shooter, also known as Shotgun Suzie or _Oh God, it's her, run!_ , and people suddenly had a better place they needed to be. Some couldn't think of a better place and simply aimed for _not there_.

The chains and studs of Suzie's leathers gleamed in the low light. Her hair was tied back with a leather thong, rumoured to be the skin of the first man she ever killed, and her dark blue eyes promised only death and destruction. The butt of her infamous pump action shotgun peered over one shoulder, a small sawn-off was strapped to one thigh and two bandoliers of ammunition criss-crossed her impressive chest. A few grenades dangling from her wide belt completed the image of a destructive force of nature.

This was a woman who had seen Girl on a Motorcycle and Easy Rider one too many times and loved every minute of both. The only woman to get kicked out of the SAS for unacceptable brutality. Shotgun Suzie.

Alex gave a slight nod to the booth Taylor had taken and walked to the other end of the bar to keep out of the way. His good deed for the decade had been done and now it was time to mope about the lack of profits.

Suzie ignored the rush of people and stalked towards the indicated booth with barely a nod in return. She saw the glow from the bottle of Angel's Tears before she saw Taylor and cursed. She hated being the emotional support in their relationship.

"Want to tell me about it?" She asked him in a tight voice, clearly as uncomfortable with asking the question as she would have been receiving it. Taylor looked up at her, eyes scanning her striking face only to slip away to glare at the distant Alex.

"No." He answered truthfully and was thankfully when she shrugged and dropped into the seat opposite.

"Suits me." Suzie said truthfully, pushing the glowing bottle as far away as could be while still being on the same table. "Always said Show Businesses was an ugly thing."

Taylor's eyebrows raised only for him to then scoff at his own surprise at her knowing what happened. "I suppose you would have slapped me around the head?"

"Damn straight, Taylor." Suzie declared with a fire that emphasised how good looking she was. John pushed _that_ thought away as quickly as it appeared. "Whatever had you thinking working with Dead Boy was a good idea?"

"You were on another case." He tried explaining, leaning back in the chair. There was no way he would be able to brood over the end of a non-existent relationship now that Suzie was there. "Besides, Suzie, he saved the girl. Billy Lathem, the bloody Jonah, had her frozen between being alive and dead."

Suzie scoffed and was about to say something rude when there was a pop of magical transportation and a small creature appeared in the middle of the bar.

It was barely four foot with long bat-like ears and large eyes and dressed in an immaculate butler's uniform. It was holding something roughly its own size but it was impossible to tell what it was beneath all the blood. John hadn't seen a house-elf in almost twenty years but knew they were a mostly peaceful race and wondered what could have brought one to Strangefellows.

The elf looked frantically around around, part awe and part searching, and its eyes grew larger as it took in the sight that was the bar. Suzie's hand had risen to the butt of her shotgun but thankfully she hadn't yet drawn it. John wasn't sure he would enjoy the sight of an angry house-elf.

"Master Taylor!" The elf squeaked as it locked in on his face and its magic gave his identity. "Master Taylor must help Styxies, Styxies not be knowing how to heal young master!"

John was up and moving the moment he realised exactly what it was that the elf was holding. Suzie followed and even Alex raced out from behind the bar with what looked like a Victorian doctor's bag.

"You think I didn't hear about your run-in with the Cavendishes?" Alex snapped when John gave the bag a quizzical look. "And don't think I don't know how you went to _Blind_ _Pew_ for healing rather than come here."

The entire rant overlaid Alex carefully pulling items from the bag. Betty and Lucy Coltrane, Alex's body building female bouncers, had appeared alongside them to ease the battered and broken body out of the crying elf's arms. They carefully laid the small boy onto the floor and everyone present cursed at extent of his wounds.

The boy's back had been destroyed. John had seen victims of flaying in the past and recognised the end result of someone with more enthusiasm than skill. Blood pooled around them as they worked with towels to clean away the blood in order for Alex's medical kit to do its work.

John sent a sideways glance to Suzie and didn't like the harsh line her mouth had taken. His friend hadn't had the best of childhoods and he was the only one who knew the reason why she killed her brother when she was fifteen. If there was anything that would set her on a downward spiral of destruction, it was an abused child.

"Can you bes saving little Master Harry?" The elf whimpered, its wide eyes pleading. There wasn't much John could do for the boy, not when Alex's surprisingly experienced touch was leading the healing. So he turned to the small creature for answers.

"We're trying." He promised the elf. "What family are you from, little guy? Why would you bring him to me?"

"Oh! Oh! Styx bes bad elf!" If possible the eyes bulged even more as the elf's bloody hands patted down its uniform in order to find something important. The immaculate uniform simply absorbed the bloody hand prints rather than become stained. "Styxies bes having letter for Master Taylor. Letter bes telling Master Taylor everything about little Mster Harry Potter."

"Potter?" John frowned and turned to stare at the mop of black hair that he could now see. _Yep_. He thought. _That's the Potter hair_. "This is James Potter's kid?"

"You knew Master James?" Styx the elf asked with awe, a crumpled letter half out of his little pocket.

"He broke my nose." John said with amusement at the memory. The sound of sizzling caught his attention and a glance told him one of Alex's potions was boiling away any infection from the lashed back. Suzie and the Coltranes held the boy in order to keep him still. He was thankfully unconscious and only moaned at what would have been an agonising feeling had he been awake. "Thought I was trying to get it on with his girl, Lily."

"When was all this?" Alex wrinkling his nose, partly at the smell of burning muscle, partly in confusion. Alex had known Taylor all his life yet didn't remember anything like that happening to his friend. "I don't recognise the names."

"It was before my father died." John explained and no one would look him in the eyes. John's father had found out his wife wasn't human and attempted to drink himself to death, leaving a young John struggling against anyone wanting to take their shot at the boy. Throughout his adolescence, John had disappeared into the sane, mostly normal world, only to return to what he knew when he couldn't ignore the call.

"Mistress Lily was wonderful." Styx sighed, bringing John's attention back to elf. He frowned at what he was learning.

"You're telling me this is Lily and James' kid?" His voice turning cold with fury. "There's no way in hell that Lily would let something like this happen to her child." Styx's sad and anguished look broke John's heart. There was only one thing that could bring that look to a person's face and John felt the heavy weight of outliving yet another friend.

Lily Evans had spiritually patched him up when he needed it the most after his enemies had set fire to an entire street in order to kill him. John had run from the Nightside as fast as possible, wanting desperately to not feel fear every time he opened his eyes. Lily Evans had given him back that ability and helped him regain his desire to spit in the eyes of his enemies.

Before either man or elf could say anything more on Lily, the world tilted and Alex vanished from reality as a new form appeared in Strangefellows. The moment Styx got a look at who had taken Alex's place, the elf _meeped_ in fear and hid behind John. John was very much in a similar mindset and wondered where _he_ could safety hide.

The figure sat on a great iron throne. It was a heavy chair made of black metal, carved and scored with crawling, unquiet runes. His naked, corpse-pale body was decorated throat to toes with curving Celtic and Druidic tattoos, many of which were unpleasant and even disturbing to look at. Both the tattoos and runes seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at them.

Any patch of skin not marked by symbols of Power was decaying, showing evidence of the fact he was, completely and utterly, dead. The man had long grey hair that hung past his shoulders in convoluted knots and stiffened in places with clay and woad. There was an ancient wound in his chest where skin, muscles and bone had been torn outward to reveal the empty cavity where his heart should have been. John's eyes moved up from the gapping wound to the heavy-boned and ugly face but that wasn't any easier to look at. The brow carried a crown of mistletoe while below it, two flames leapt and danced in empty eye sockets.

 _They say his has his father's eyes_.

Merlin Satanspawn, dead but not forgotten, and still a Power and Domination of Nightside. His body was buried somewhere beneath Strangefellows and he was only able to manifest through his descendants. In this case Alex. John was at a loss at what could have brought the man who declined the role of the Antichrist out of his slumber. The air crackled with energy and magic as Merlin rose and stepped off his throne. There was a calculating gaze in the harsh face that didn't sit right with any of those there.

"My descendant has done an adequate job." The deep voice noted when he looked down at Harry's body. It was a dark sound that grated on the ears like fingernails dragging along a soul. "The scars will give the boy character."

"Excuse me, sir Merlin." John said, standing up to face the powerful force head on. There was no way he was going to stay kneeling in front of a threat, any threat. He would never live it down. Suzie followed instinctively and her hand drifted closer to her sawn-off. "But what has brought you out of your slumber?"

"The Boy-Who-Lived." Merlin replied, cackling harshly at John's confusion. "The only living wizard to survive the Killing Curse."

"The _Avada Kedavra_?" John looked down at Harry and felt a swell of sympathy for the boy. He could too easily imagine what type of reputation Harry Potter would have after surviving the unsurvivable.

"Allow me to tell you a tale." Merlin said in a tone that demanded attention. He made his way to the bar and reached over it to pull out a bottle of forty year-old Scotch, pulling the cork free and gulping down a good third before leaning against the bar with a satisfied sigh. Much to John's relief no drink leaked out of the horrific chest wound. "Your friends, James and Lily Potter, give birth to a boy cursed beneath a prophecy. He is destined to face the darkest wand wielder in centuries."

"I don't believe in destinies." John snarled immediately, fists clenching as he thought of the terrible destiny hanging over his own head. Merlin's laugh only made him angrier.

"You should, John Taylor. Now be quiet before I turn you into a pregnant toad." Merlin demanded, taking another swig from the bottle. "The Potters went into hiding but, as these things go, ended up trusting the wrong people. I'm sure the elf hiding behind you has enough details to fill in the gaps. The Potters died, Riddle used an unbeatable curse on a baby that was beaten, and voilà, we have the Boy-Who-Lived."

Suzie stirred restlessly alongside John as the Coltranes continued treating Harry battered body with items from the bag. John was trying to piece together what wasn't being said when the dead wizard changed focus.

"Elf, bring me your Masters."

Styx gave an immediate click of his fingers and a large portrait appeared, floating effortless in the air. Its three occupants blinked in surprise at the sudden change in locations and snarled and grumbled with complaints.

The painting was of three men, obviously brothers, sitting side-by-side in ornate chairs and were dressed in expensive, if old fashioned, robes. The oldest had a thick beard and hair as long as Merlin's. His eyes were dark, hard, and and John knew the man would have been a massive Power in his lifetime. The brother on the right had a goatee with short, wild and and his brown eyes blazed with mischief and adventure. The third, thinner, brother was clean shaven with the same crazy hair and looked around the bar in a calculating manner that had John's instincts screaming. Suddenly he broke into a grin and laughed.

"I don't believe it." He exclaimed with glee. "It's actually Strangefellows. The place hasn't changed a bit."

"Of course it hasn't." The long-haired brother declared with a scoff. "It wouldn't be Strangefellows if it did."

"I see you're as bullish as ever, Antioch." Merlin said with a wicked chuckle as he moved into a position that allowed the three men to see him.

"Merlin." Antioch Peverell sneered back, clearly unbowed by the Magician's reputation. John would have been impressed at the attitude if he didn't consider it an easy one to take as a painting. "I see you're as dead as ever."

"And still as ugly." The clean-shaven Ignotus added with a smirk.

"Boys." Cadmus sighed, rolling his eyes with long practice. "Is there a reason we're here and our descendant is still a bloody mess on the floor?"

Merlin tilted his head to look down at the small form of Harry and then waved his left hand towards the unconscious boy. The air shimmered over Harry's body, distorting reality around him with a harsh light. When the glare faded away, the blood had vanished and there was a healed, if badly scarred, back staring up at them.

"Better?" The dead wizard asked in a mocking tone as he turned his attention back to the portrait. The three brothers bowed their heads in thanks while everyone else tried to stay as quiet as possible. "Good. Now I'd like to propose a deal."

"Yes?" Antioch's eyes narrowed in suspicious while Ignotus leaned back in his chair to study Merlin. Cadmus' nose twitched in anticipation in a way that mirrored businessmen smelling a good deal.

"Harry Potter will need training before he re-enters the world of wand wielders."

"We know." Ignotus interrupted, clearly unimpressed by being told something he was already aware of. "We'd planned to do it ourselves."

"I can help." Merlin offered with a grin that promised pain and anguish. "My aid, here and there in things we decide, to the boy. Spells and knowledge. For a favour to be determined at a later date."

 _Please not to find his heart._ John thought. No one wanted to see what would happen if the dead wizard regained his lost organ and the power it possessed.

"A favour to be negotiated for at a later date." Antioch corrected immediately with narrowed eyes. "To be completed by young Harry and John Taylor together."

"Excuse me?" John exclaimed without thinking. Three sets of powerful eyes and a fourth of flame stared at him as though ready to swat him out of existence. John was pretty sure at least one had the power to do so. "Sir wizards, why are you including me?"

"You haven't read the letter yet?" Cadmus sighed with disappointment and a shake of his head while his brothers glared angrily at John. "It's Lily's request should something happen to her and James. Or would you rather he go back to the same people who did _that_ to his back?"

Suzie growled angrily at the idea. John could only sigh and close his eyes. He already had a stray; a sixteen year-old girl he had saved from a house that was eating her and who had then immediately adopted him. Now it seemed he had someone else added to the menagerie.

" _Fine!_ " He gave in with a wave of the hand. "Go on, make your deals, sir wizards, and let us living folk deal with the fallout."

Four dead men grinned in wicked happiness at the ease of victory while Suzie glared in disappointment at there not being a fight.

The portrait was elf-snapped back to its place of origins to prepare for Harry's arrival. The boy in question would stay above Strangefellows while he emotionally recovered in order to provide him with mostly human company. Styx had refused to leave the young Master and, with nothing more to do, Merlin tilted the world sideways in order to return to his death.

The moment Alex was back among the existed, he forced as much of the remaining Scotch as possible down his throat. Being forced into Nothingness was a horrible experience and the corrupted Latin and Druid phrases that were left bouncing in his mind after the possession never helped his mood. With grim determination he demanded to know what had happened and Suzie listened intensely at all the explanations, seeming to take special focus on any mention of this James and Lily.

John mentally shrugged once the dust settled. It was just another day in the Nightside.

.

.

oOoOo

.

.

 _2nd September, 1992_

Harry woke in his Ravenclaw dorm and glared at the ceiling as if it was at fault for him being awake. It's hard to be a morning person when you spend most of your time in a place that's always nighttime. He knew it would take a while for his body clock to adjust.

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side in a slow manner that belied with his young age. The scars from his last day at the Dursleys had scarred over into wide, jagged scores that deformed the older scars beneath. His chest had been in better condition from his relatives' gentle touch but the life and death struggle that had given him the scars on his face also gave his small chest new ones.

A full length mirror faced the bed and the revealed the legacy of his life to his morning gaze. His messy hair hung loose around his lowered head to hide everything but the slight shine of his amber eye. It was a ritual Harry had fallen into; a staring contest between himself and the scars while he fought to mask the inner turmoil. Hanging around his neck was a chain of pure silver weighed down by a thick golden ring. The ring was dominated by a black stone that was inscribed with an infamous sigil and it nested just below his sternum. It was warm against his skin no matter the ambient temperature around him.

Harry stared at his body until the screams of the past were drowned out by the awakening rage he used to face the day. When it was bubbly away beneath his surface thoughts, Harry gave a determined snarl and pushed himself to feet. The left leg shuddered beneath the strain of his weight and Harry quickly grabbed the long staff that was hovering in the air beside the bed. He used an ancient Word of Power and the staff began to softly glow. It split in two with the top part shrinking until it became his wand while the bottom seeped into the damaged leg. A realistic tattoo of a branches growing out of Harry's ankle, winding up his leg until they finished at the hip appeared and with it came the magical support he needed for the weak limb.

His hip had been crushed not too long ago and was still healing. With no one close to Harry having the know-how to vanish the bones and use Skele-Gro - not that Harry would accept the offer if it was made – there was no telling how strong or weak the leg would be when it was done recovering. At the time of the injury, Harry had been working on a way of merging himself with his staff to see if it would increase his magical output. Merlin had suggested editing the plan so that the foci would cover for his physical weakness and they were all surprised at how well it worked.

Harry dropped the wand onto the bed and ran a hand over the thick branches wrapping around his thigh. The magic within them crackled beneath his touch and had him smiling at how strong the merging always made him feel.

A quick shower later and he was throwing on a tight long-sleeved t-shirt beneath his school shirt and knee length leather boots. Across the room, standing on her perch, a white owl with shimmering red wing-tips watched him prepare for the day ahead.

"Best behaviour, Hedwig." He told his companion with evident disgust at the idea. "And that means both of us."

Hedwig barked, the sound much deeper and darker than a normal owl's voice, and it clearly explained her displeasure at the plan. She closed her brilliant eyes and concentrated until a ripple flowed through her feathers that hid the red markings. Harry nodded his appreciation, even though he was already missing her unique colouring, and took up the shimmering cloak that hung off the back of a chair. As it settled around him, it repeated the trick of the previous night to appear like a normal Ravenclaw robe.

"Time to face the crowds." Harry sighed, only to roll his eyes at the smirk-like look Hedwig gave him before slipping her head beneath a wing. "Thanks for the support, girl."

His wand went into its wrist holster, a stiletto knife was slipped into the hidden boot sheaths while two thicker blades nestled against his lower back beneath his robe. They were silver with one being blessed and the other cursed, the clashing magics able to deal with most physical threats. Harry gave himself a final once over in the mirror to make sure he looked the part of a semi-normal schoolboy. A nod of satisfaction and he was then out of the room, only to stop short as he almost bumped into the two waiting girls.

The blonde was smiling happily, her wide eyes taking in the wards he had placed over his room's door. The fuzzy-haired brunette was much more nervous and even confused over exactly why she was standing in the hallway waiting for a boy she didn't know with a girl who had kidnapped her before breakfast.

"Good morning, Harry Potter." Luna beamed, her sharp gaze dropped once to where the ring hung beneath his clothing and then back to his face. "Your room is amazing."

"Thank you, Luna." Harry smiled openly at the smaller girl and nodded to Hermione. "And a good morning to you both."

"Err...hi?...good morning?" Hermione mumbled as she tugged at her arm and it was only then that Harry noticed Luna's tight grip keeping Hermione in place. By the constant tugging going on, he was sure there would be bruises. "I hope you don't mind us waiting but Luna seemed to think you'd be okay with it and well..."

"It's fine, Hermione." Harry told her, playfully swaying in spot to keep the bobbing and weaving Luna from being able to see into his room. She eventually got tired of the game and somehow pounced past him. Harry took it in his stride with a grin while Hermione looked even more confused. "I'm guessing she found you as you were leaving your room?"

"You are _SO_ beautiful!" Luna squealed from inside the room and Harry sighed, knowing exactly who Luna was talking to. "I love your colours!"

"Er...actually she barged into my room." Hermione explained, frowning at the strange noises coming from the room. "I usually go down early. It's quiet and I get to do some reading before everyone shows up. I really wanted to finish my DADA reading too since we have a new Professor. Professor Lockhart is supposed to be really good at his job but..."

"Oooo, I'd love to watch you stick this in someone..." Luna cooed and Harry fought back the laughter at Hermione's face. Somehow the little pixie had found one of his emergency knives.

"But you're not sure about the man?" He offered innocently, knowing that Hermione wouldn't barge into his room to find out exactly what Luna was declaring her everlasting worship over. "Something about the books doesn't sit right to you even though it all seems plausible?"

"Exactly!" Hermione smiled brightly in relief. The confusion had been driving her crazy and she'd been unsure if it was her or if there really was something amiss. "But I can't place what it is."

"It's the dates." He explained, putting the poor girl out of her misery. He lifted his hand and tapped a knuckle against the door-frame in a specific pattern. The wood flared with magic and he stepped out of the way of a floating Luna as his protections gently brought the giggling girl back into the hallway. The door shut and locked immediately as soon as she was clear. "If everything in them were true, he'd be in three different places at once."

"That's it!" Hermione beamed, doing her absolute best to ignore Luna as the blonde pouted and gave Harry doe-eyes in the hope of being able to enjoy the ride again. "There's no way he could do everything he said he has."

"He didn't." Harry said with annoyance. He had a severe dislike of people taking credit for other people's achievements. For a moment his amber eye seemed to glow with intensity only for it to return to its normal colour when Hermione blinked.

Harry turned towards the stairs and held out his elbows for the girls to take. Luna immediately did so while Hermione took some gentle prodding and eventual whining from the younger girl in order to follow suit. The three talked about their thoughts on Hogwarts, while Luna playfully slipped in references over what had excited her so in Harry's room without describing anything. Harry, for his part, was enjoying the mounting curiosity in the brunette's eyes.

Their good mood was dampened when they reached the Ravenclaw common room and a waiting Professor Flitwick. Hermione was about to leave the two males alone but neither seemed bothered that either girl heard what was being discussed.

"Good morning, Mister Potter, Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood." Flitwick smiled at them, the slightly crumbled sheets of paper he held was the only sign of his agitation. "I'm afraid I have some good and bad news, Mister Potter."

"My schedule?" Harry easily guessed and he received a nod in return.

"There was a late night teacher's meeting." The small Professor explained as he handed the papers over. Harry took them and read through the list, the two girls doing the same. "The classes you have been moved up with will require you to do both first and second year work."

"History of Magic, Herbology, Astronomy. Makes sense, those are subjects you need a foundation for." Harry mused aloud as he listed the classes he would be with Luna for. He frowned when he came to the list of those he would share with Hermione. "Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall?"

"Your House is your family." Luna explained, remembering the disinterested look he had given the speech the previous night.

"Her, right. Makes sense she'd do whatever the Old Man wanted." Harry growled. Hermione frowned at the disrespect and was given a subtle shake of the head from Flitwick to keep her from saying anything. "What's this? Professor, you've accepted me without any first year extra reading?"

"Please, Mister Potter." Flitwick chuckled wickedly. "Do you really think I don't believe you'll be more than capable after knowing where you've been living?"

"Tricksy, goblin, tricksy." Harry laughed only to blink when he found the last class on the list. "Why does Potions have an asterisk next to it?"

"Professor Snape was argued quite venomously against your promotion but for some reason the Headmaster refused to listen." Flitwick's expression showed clearly what he thought of that situation.

"Severus Snape? Potions Master? Schoolboy enemy of my father who felt James Potter was given everything on a silver platter without any effort involved?" Harry asked, stunned at the sheer stupidity of the move. He barely registered a soothing touch on his arm from Luna in an attempt to calm him. "The Headmaster made _that_ Professor Snape take me into his second year class when he didn't want to?"

Hermione was shocked to hear the history between Harry's father and the most feared Professor in Hogwarts. She could easily imagine the class of personalities if the Slytherin Head of House wasn't able to put his issues with James in the past. Hermione's reverence for teachers didn't blind her to the difficulties that Harry might face if Professor Snape couldn't be the bigger man.

Professor Flitwick took the rant in the way it was meant to be taken and could only nod sadly when Harry was finished. He had been shocked at how hard Dumbledore had pushed for his Claw to be moved up in the Potions class and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that it was to see the explosive reaction between the two potential enemies.

Luna, for her part, ignored Harry's rant as she was too focused on the beautiful waves of magic coming off his body. The magic from some of the items he wore seemed to react and intertwine with his own in reaction to his mood and the movements were hypnotic to the unique girl.

"I'm afraid so, Mister Potter." Flitwick grumbled, mentally cursing in Goblin at the idiotic situation. "Not even Professor McGonagall was able to dissuade our esteemed Headmaster from this. I can only suggest keeping your head down and retaliating only."

"Sir!" Hermione shrieked at what her Head of House had offered. "You're giving Harry permission to go after another teacher?"

"No, Miss Granger, I am giving my student permission to defend himself from another teacher." Flitwick corrected with steel in his voice. "I was there during the time in question and witnessed the clashes between Severus and James Potter. Never will you find two students who grew to hate each other with such purity as those two."

"Except Snape and uncle Sirius." Harry absently corrected as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't realised who the dark haired teacher had been the previous night but now he knew, he could feel the confrontation building on the horizon.

"Yes..." Flitwick agreed with open surprise at how much Harry knew of his family's past. The Duelling Master wondered if the boy was aware of Black's betrayal considering his use of the term 'uncle'. "You have to understand, Miss Granger, and I tell you this against my better judgement only so you _do_ understand. The two boys embodied the Gryffindor-Slytherin divide to the point where it was feared they would happily kill each other the way it's believed Slytherin attempted to kill Gryffindor."

Harry looked around the common room and realised how empty it was and how it had been empty the entire conversation. Breakfast had to be in full flow by now.

"You can say it as it is, Professor." Harry offered, looking the small man in the eyes like a boy resigned to the truth. "Professor Snape almost did lose his life."

Hermione gasped and was ready to ask for details when a white form flew into one of the open windows. Hedwig had felt Harry's swell of emotions and had come to help sooth her friend. He smiled at the beautiful owl as she settled onto his shoulder and nuzzled into his long hair. Immediately the emotions soothed and Harry repaid her with a knuckle-rub against her belly. The whole thing distracted everyone from seeing Flitwick's flabbergasted look at what Harry admitted he knew.

"Thank you for the support, sir." Harry told him, the harsh look he had worn throughout the conversation bleeding into a smile as Luna kidnapped a happy Hedwig and used her as a headpiece. "I'll do my best not to retaliate more than reasonably."

"That's the best I can ask, Mister Potter." The Charms Master confessed. "Now the three..four of you, had best get down for breakfast before it's finished."

The correction had come from an angry Hedwig bark at not being included and all four smiled at her indignation.

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oOoOo

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 _Father,_

 _The rumours were true, Harry Potter has indeed come to Hogwarts. There is something strange about him, Father, something that has me wonder which side he would be on. He wears his hair long like that of a House Lord and has nasty scars on his face. I don't mean the one from legend. They look like claw marks and the eye that they overlap is a different colour. Amber, if you wanted to know. Is there an animal I'm unaware of that could do this to a wizard?_

 _I watched Potter as you commanded. He seemed incredibly angry towards Dumbledore for some reason and would often glare at the doddering old fool when he thought the man looked elsewhere. Potter appeared to perform some type of wandless magic on the Sorting Hat to make it unable to sort him. I thought this wasn't possible? Dumbledore looked very annoyed over Potter's prank and more so when the Hat put him into Ravenclaw._

 _Yes, Father, Harry Potter is in Ravenclaw. The idiot lions didn't know how to react when the stupid hat announced it. Could delving into the Dark Arts have marked Potter's eye, Father? It must be this that had the Hat put him with the ravens rather than any love of books._

 _Do you wish me to continue watching or shall I make an approach?_

 _I have not seen any sign of anything else happening here but will continue to keep an eye out as you requested. Please say hello to Mother for me._

 _Your son,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

The crown prince of Slytherin had only just finished the letter to his father, Lucius, when its target walked through the main doors. Draco wrinkled his nose at the sight of a Mud-blood alongside Potter. His sharp eyes caught the very slight tensing of step as Potter caught sight of Dumbledore and Draco nodded to himself. _There was something to be found there._

"Looking to expand your contacts already?" The rough voice of Theodore Nott asked, interrupting Draco's thoughts. Draco looked at the other boy and gave the question an elegant eyebrow raise it deserved. "There's no telling which side of the line he is on."

"Question and Suspect, never dismiss." Draco quoted his father and the other boy nodded in agreement. There was still too many unknowns about the new boy for anyone to guess which way the wind was blowing. "After all, there has always been a healthy link between Slytherins and Ravenclaws."

Nott and the other Slytherins listening in nodding in agreement. They would watch and learn, they would be the snakes their House was famous for, and if it turned out that Potter was an enemy instead of a friend. Well, snakes were known to be dangerously poisonous.

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oOoOo


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